Chasing Echoes
by Ryanfan14
Summary: Wolverine is haunted by nightmares and the echoes of the past, A man is hanging around the school needing to speak to James Howllet. Will he be the key to unlocking Wolverine's past?


Disclaimer: I don't own any reconizable part of this work of fiction.

He crept through the forest, his light prowling steps more from habit than from an actual desire to remain unnoticed. A deep sigh rumbled through his chest echoing like a thunder storm rolling through the mountains. His steel grey eyes threw a measuring glance around the clearing he took in the deer tracks leading up to the small stream that ran through cut through the clearing twisting and turning like a serpent. With his keen eyes he easily picked out a squirrel's nest perched high in the branches of a tall oak tree. A gust of wind brought with it nothing but the clean scent of pine needles and fresh earth. It was a soft breeze gently ruffling his dark brown hair, not crackling with power like it would've if the weather mutant had tampered with it. That knowledge made him feel more at ease, he didn't like the idea of someone controlling the weather. His whole life he'd lived with it as something to be thrown up into the hands of the God he no longer had faith in. He still believed but at some point his God had morphed into the God of those more deserving. He supposed it could be said that he hadn't lost faith in God he'd lost faith in himself. Regardless he didn't like the idea of something he'd always through only God could control being in the hands of man. If it rains than it rain, if it doesn't than it doesn't, you just had to live with it. It was out of your control. Of course before his own mutation had manifested that had been his view on death too. Guess he was being a bit of a hypocrite, but old habits die hard.

A couple of lithe strides and he was crouched down by the stream. He dipped a hand into cool water and let the flow part around it smoothly caressing his callused fingers and it rushed past. He retracted his hand and licked a few drops off the tips of his fingers. He couldn't taste anything contaminating it except maybe a faint metallic trace of…iron? Maybe there was a vein nearby and it was leaking into the stream? Regardless he couldn't taste enough that it should matter anyway. Content that it was safe to drink he dipped his cupped hands into the steam and brought it up full to the brim of the clean, clear water. He happily slurped the pure life-giving water out of his cupped hands moistening his dry throat. Suddenly he heard a twig break behind him just as the wind carried a scent to him it was heavy and dark and reeked of frustration and testosterone. He knew who that belonged to; he sprung back to his feet and soundlessly backed up out of the clearing. Darting through the woods he went in a long loop to get downwind from the man currently approaching the clearing he was just in. Seconds later a trio of metallic claws could be seen slashing through the plants at the edge of the clearing soon followed by the man they belonged to.

"Pst! Chase! Ya might wanna get out of here. He'll smell ya all over that place." The words echo through his skull, reaching his ears as nothing more than a faint whisper on the breeze. Once he found sharing his head with the other man disturbing, but now he found his presence a solid reassurance from his whirling emotion and feral instinct.

"I know." He not so much as said but thought back simply forcing his eyes to remain fixed firmly ahead.

Wolverine stood at the edge of the clearing, his trademark scowl plastered on his face and his dark eyes teeming with anger and frustration. "He seems much too caught up in his own thoughts to notice someone's been in the clearing just seconds before him, either that or he just thought he was one of the kids from the school." Chase thought relieved, but at the same time he feels his stomach churn and bile rise in his throat uncomfortably.

He should remember him! Damn it he should remember him!

Suddenly he felt very, very stupid. He came all the way down from Alaska to freaking New York to talk to James Howlett, and the man didn't even remember his damn name _is _James Howlett much less anything about Chase or what he needed his advice on.

"Ya should talk to him." And this time he doesn't find the other man reassuring, he just rubs salt in open wounds.

"I can't Frank, he don't remember me." He thought back viciously loading all his feelings of helplessness and frustrations at Frank in one giant mental projection.

"Don't matter ya can tell 'im" and what he gets back only comes with a projection of patience and tolerance and his anger deflates.

"Like he'll believe me." He muttered sadly before disappearing back into the woods careful not to make any noise.

~ (Logan's POV) ~

After what happen on Liberty Island I'm not sure whether my dreams have gotten better or worse.

I no longer dream of sharp needles piercing my skin along neatly drawn grids pumping me full of molten metal. Like fire running through my veins hot and burning, scorching, cooking me from the inside out.

Of running naked through sterile corridors blood dripping down my claws as the metal inside of me cools and hardens. Weighting my down, trying to drag me down, cage me, trap me like the soldiers and scientists whose corpses lay scattered in my wake.

Of stumbling thought the wilderness frightened and alone with no idea where I'm going or where I'm coming from.

The dreams I have now are a different sort of nightmare.

I'm standing on the edge of a fast flowing stream. My throat burns with thirst and my lips are cracked and parched. The roar of the rushing water fills my ears and its cool fresh scent hangs in the air around me.

I want to rush forward and plunge my head into the cool depths. Lap up the life giving water, gulp it down like an animal, but I can't. My limbs are heavy like the metal coating my bones seeped outward until my entire body was made of adamantium. Frozen like a statue unable to move a single inch I can only stare as the stream rushes by.

It's a line I want to cross but I can't take the first step.

Flames burn my skin and scorch my hair. The terrible stench of burning flesh chokes my senses and I can feel bile rising in the back of my throat. The thunder of guns echo in the distance. Running blindly though the raging inferno. I want to unleash my claws and strike out at the flames. Beat them back like I would any other enemy, but I know it won't help. This is not an enemy I can fight.

Is this hell? Is this the weight of the blood I've spilled and the lives I've taken dragging me down to damnation? Is this the consequences of my sins? Is this the end?

The end. Never before have I felt so conflicted about something. The end. The thought of it awakens so primal a terror in every living thing. No one ever fully welcomes it's clutches even those who seek it. Yet it also brings with it a profound sense of bitter relief. It's over. It's finally over.

The world will end in fire and water.

But for me the end of the world brings to mind a complex made of concrete and cinderblock. Children fleeing in the chaos. A strange pale misshapen creature that disappears through the air like smoke, beams of fire bursting from its eyes as it brandished twin swords.

A searing pain rips through my skull and my eyes snap shut as my body crumples to the ground.

My eyes open again and it's like the first time I've looked at the sky, at the world around me for all I can remember it is. Crawling unsteadily to my feet I find myself looking down upon the still face of an angel.

I can vaguely remember someone asking me if I knew her. I answered no even through my entire being was screaming I did, the memory of her lurking just under the surface slithering out of my reach..

I turn to leave even thought something in the back of my mind begs me to stay. To stay with her. I turn to look one last time and…

And then I'm standing in a bright forest. I can hear the chirping of bird through the trees. A young boy bounces around my feet dressed in clothes made of deer skin. Grey eyes crackle with excitement like thunder clouds before a storm wild dark brown hair framing his small face.

"Come on ya promised ta take me to the creek to'day!"

I feel a fond chuckle rumble through my chest "Calm down Chann. It'll still be there."

Then the world explodes in fire and bullets wiz past me and I can see the same boy, no longer a boy but a man now, plowing his way through the chaos at my side. Blood dripping drown his chin and take I feel a deep smoldering rage take hold of me because he shouldn't be fucking hurt and then…

Then I jerk awake. The sudden snap back from the wasteland of my dreams to the empty walls of my room at the school was bewildering. I lay in bed my breath coming in panting gulps and I'm covered in a cold sweat. I fumble my way out of bed and shove the door of my room uncaring as it slams into the wall hard enough to crack the plaster. I don't care as people scurry out of my way. Their scared o' me they should be. I'm a monster, I'm insane, I need some goddamn air.

**A/N: This may be a oneshot or I may write another chapter it depends on the feedback i get so please review.**


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